No One Said Love Had to Make Sense
by R3dHoodie
Summary: No, this is not your average love story. Dee gets drunk, gets hit on by an old weirdo, falls from a bar stool and gets rescued by Mac. It also contains the secret language of flirting by insult, some love that never made sense and a bad hangover. And that's the way they like it.


The bar was somehow even more empty than usual, with no patrons to speak of. Mac was the only person left at Paddy's, so he was the one who got to see Sweet Dee stumble in firsthand. She was crying, her mascara smudged down her face in two thick black lines. Glancing at a clock, the greasy-haired man saw that it was nearly eleven at night. She left at ten, so she must not have slept with , Mac felt himself almost relax at this notion. He watched her nervously as she stumbled behind the bar and tried to pour herself some liquor. From the way she walked and the way the alcohol spilled atop the bar counter, it was obvious she had already knocked back some drinks beforehand.

"So, how was your date?" Even seeing her in this obviously pathetic state, he couldn't resist teasing her a bit. Maybe he was an asshole at heart, or maybe it was instinct to him now, but teasing was something they just **did** to each other. It was like a language to them, filled with sarcasm and profane language.

"Shut it... boner." She swayed a bit as she talked, her words spaced far apart. As Mac looked at the bottle, he noticed it was slightly less full than before. There was no glass anywhere. _Damn it,_ Mac thought to himself as he nursed his beer in his left hand. _Why does she always go out with_ _douchebag_s? It wasn't like he cared or anything, but he was getting tired of her coming in and getting drunk. It was sad to watch, and slightly concerning.

The blond walked around the counter and plopped down on a bar stool that was a bit away from Mac's. As she clumsily sat down, the bottle of liquor spilled on the bar, forming a puddle right in front of her. The Catholic man sighed. He would have to clean that up tomorrow. And probably take care of a drunken Dee tonight.

Alone with his thoughts, Mac looked over at the pictures on the wall for a second before hearing a slight slapping sound. He looked over in shock and saw the lonely blond face down in a puddle of alcohol, emitting several sobbing noises. She hadn't even bothered to put her head in her arms as she fell. This would only worsen the headache she was sure to have tomorrow.

Mac watched Dee cry for a few minutes, honestly not sure what to do. He had never seen her like this before. And what's more, along with the urge to laugh at her he felt something ... different. A strange swelling in his stomach. Sympathy maybe? He wasn't exactly sure. It may have just been that he was inebriated also.

"Hey, bird." He tried to say that comfortingly. He swore that he did. But at least it got the point across. The blond managed to sit up fully, looking at Mac with squinting eyes.

As the lights of the bar reflected off of her normally beautiful blue eyes, the 'Sheriff of Paddy's' remembered what she looked like when she came in. Her hair was curled lightly to frame her face well. She had on a blue dress and had accentuated her eyes. He remembered how excited she was. The inexplicable way he had clenched his fingers tighter around the frosty glass of beer. It had all turned to shit. And fast. She had been gone for only an hour.

"What do you want?" Mac could barely make out anything she was saying. Liquor dripped down in droplets from her hair and landed on her chest. Without thinking, he hopped off of the chair, walked over, and pushed the hair behind her ear. Even if the liquid was running down the side of her face, it was better than allowing it to soil her pretty dress. The door to the bar opened and Mac took the opportunity of her distraction to push the bottle further down the counter. He was effectively cutting her off.

"Stay here." She nodded a little too enthusiastically as Mac hopped off of the stool and got to work tending to the one customer. It was after twelve now. Why the hell did this greasy looking man decide he needed a goddamn drink so late?

As the order was placed and Mac went into the back to get some cups, (apparently they had none) the guy got aggressive. He took a piece of Sweet Dee's hair and twirled it slowly in his fingers. He pushed the dripping piece of hair back into her face, gently touching her cheek as he did so. The piece of shit gave her back the bottle, which she eagerly drank out of.

And that bottle was the **only** thing she was accepting from him. The drunk girl didn't like all of this touching, at least not from this guy. However, he didn't seem to hear her moans of 'no' that the blond was saying. Either that or he frankly didn't care. Dee shuffled along the stool and tried to push it forward to get away. However, all Dee managed to do was to crash loudly to the floor, hitting her head on the way down.

"What's going on here?" Mac came out of the back, alerted by the noise. He didn't see Dee, however, he saw the asshole grinning widely with his stupid as shit missing tooth smile. Immediately Mac ran out and grabbed the fucker's arm.

"Where's my damn martini?" The old patron was still smiling at the groaning lump on the floor, not even looking at Mac as he talked. Now, Mac had just about enough of this fucktard. He had obviously hurt Dee. Mac always knew he had slight feelings for the female half of the Reynolds twin and seeing her on the floor and hurt made smoke come out of his ears and his chest pound.

"Get **the fuck** out of this fucking bar and don't **ever** come back!" As Mac spoke, he grabbed the old mans arm and forcibly walked him through the doors. The remnants of the young adult's anger seemed even scarier against the silent streets of Philadelphia. The old sleazeball ran in the opposite direction until he was just a shadow in the darkness. Mac stormed back into the bar.

"Thanks,'' Dee said. Mac was still so angry from the patrons behavior that he almost forgot to help Dee up. Gently, he set to work on that, choosing to let her wrap her arms around his neck and snuggle into his chest instead of sitting on the bar stool. Dee apparently liked this more too. It was warmer that way. And he was cozier than a wooden seat. As he gently swayed back and forth, Mac thought of what he had said earlier. It seemed even worse now that all of this had happened.

"Hey, Dee?" He got a look up from half closed eyes. She was obviously falling asleep. "I'm sorry about what I said earlier." Even if she was too drunk to remember, he still felt like he needed to say it. Mac had some form of conscious deep in his brain. He looked down at the top of the blond's head. Though he couldn't see very well, she appeared to be asleep. _Fuck_, Mac thought to himself. _Now what_?

The way Mac saw it, he could take her home and care for her a bit, or he could let her sleep it off in the back. It didn't take a rocker scientist to pick the answer. Thirty minutes later and after a lot of drunken groaning, they reached her apartment.

Dee stumbled in, Mac offering support so she didn't fall on her face. She somehow ended up at the old couch, allowing herself to fall down onto the cushion. In all honesty, Dee was exhausted and was ready to sleep on the floor if she landed there. Giving up any attempts to help her into her bed, he sat down next to her, turning on the television.

They watched a stupid talk show for about fifteen minutes when Dee laid her head on Mac's thigh, yawning a bit. At first he was startled, but Mac quickly overcame it and brushed some hair out of her face. He was starting to feel the effects of the night too. Slowly, but surely, Mac fell to sleep.

* * *

The next morning, he awoke with a headache, but nothing too bad. He was still going into work at least, mostly to drink more, but that was irrelevant. Looking next to him, he saw that Dee wasn't on his leg anymore. The television was on a different channel, and someone had made black coffee. Immediately he understood.

Peeking in the bathroom door, he saw Dee leaning against the toilet and moaning in pain. The blond had changed into a tank top, which had puke over the left breast, and her hair was now a matted mess. Mac had never felt so much sympathy for her in his life. it was strange.

"Stay home today." As he spoke, Dee looked up and around, as if wondering why a person was in her apartment. Her eyes settled on Mac's caring expression and her face softened. "I'll tell the guys that you worked late last night and were too tired to come in." She nodded, mystified that he was actually helping her. Usually he just fired an insult about how she looked like an old bird or something. Looks like he had turned over a new leaf.

"Thanks." Her stomach was twisting in knots and her throat felt dry. She could not thank him enough for this. He walked into the bathroom, looking around.

"Don't mention it, Big Bird." Okay, so he **had** called her a bird. Whatever. This time it felt different. This time it felt... sweet. However, Dee still had one question to ask Mac.

"Hey, did anything happen last night?" She was looking at the white tile floor as she spoke, too nervous to actually say it to his face. She was afraid he would see that she actually had** wanted** something to happen. "You know, between-." Her voice trailed off and she pointed at the two of them. Mac shook his head.

"No!" He chuckled as he said that, more shocked than anything. "No, I carried your fat ass home and you passed out on the couch." Okay, to be clear, he regretted calling her a fat ass. She was actually thin and bony, and Mac was often stuck wondering how much she really ate. However, sympathy was strange to him. He was used to condescension. he was used to Dennis and his mind games. Not helping his best friend (and crush) while she lay on the bathroom floor.

"Oh." Dee was looking firmly at the tiles now, as if she expected them to move. Her sweaty forehead and blushed face was concealed by her gross hair. The urge to throw up pounded at her stomach and throat. She was never going to live this down.

"Why?" After Mac's question there was a short silence. It was an awkward one, in which Mac became fully aware of how bad he smelled, and Dee became fully aware of how bad she looked. Dee had to break the silence, trying to find anything to say. This wasn't easy.

"No reason." She pushed her hair behind her ear again as she looked up and turned around. That vomit feeling wasn't going away anytime soon. Surprisingly, Mac came and held back her hair. Though she swore she heard him whisper 'shit, Dee' as he did. As she turned back around, he backed off, choosing to sit down near the towel rack.

"Did you, want something to happen." Just like last night he was teasing her. He knew her answer, and he knew the answer he would hopefully hear. Teasing was their language, a strange way of communicating.

"No, no, no, no, no, no, no no." Dee was a terrible actress. Godawful really. Mac saw right through her ruse. But was he really worth eight whole no's? Even fake ones. He smirked at her in response.

"No, you bitch, I just wanted to make sure you didn't go all Charlie on the Waitress on me." He scoffed at her words.

"You're no where near the waitress. You're like a two, and she's at least a six." Even with the insult, they both smiled at each other. Hey, no one ever said flirting ever had to make sense. Sometimes the lovers make the least sense of all.

"Don't you have to go to work, ya boner?" He stood up as she talked, nodding and walking over to where she sat. Before he left, he gently kissed her cheek, not wanting to get anywhere near her mouth or her sweaty forehead. Love **did** have it's limits.

* * *

A/N- Okay, so I think I wrote Mac waaaaayyy out of character there. But I wanted him to be at least a little nice to Deandre. And I felt like those two deserved a little happiness. Even if it came in the form of insults and cheek kisses. And I'm sorry if I've over borrowed from any other IASIP fics. But that's it. Bye :)


End file.
